Cold Remedy
by Abigail-Nicole
Summary: Even heartless Slytherins get sick. NarcissaLucius, fluffy, cute.


**Cold Remedy**

**Author's Notes:** Bah. What am I doing. I got a new laptop today. So obviously in the past million years a good excuse has been that I didn't have a computer, all evidence to the contrary.

* * *

The Slytherin Common Room was cold, as usual. It never warmed up in the winter, no matter how the fire burned, illuminating the sickly green walls. The chandelier overhead never caught the warmth of the fire, just the light, reflecting it back onto the silent inhabitants below. Narcissa was draped over a green armchair, a thick green cloak covering her like a blanket. her long hair hung down her shoulders and back, tendrils of white gold that glimmered in the dim light. In front of her was an open sketchbook, pressed against the arm of the chair and held up by her fingers, grasping the charcoal tightly. Her fingers were going numb but she didn't really care.

"Still here, Narcissa?" someone asked. She didn't even move her eyes or break the smooth line of charcoal.

"Hello, Lucius," she said, her voice a bit hoarse. She coughed and tried again. "What?"

Lucius sat down in the chair across from her. His figure was all angles, long straight lines broken up and draped over the chair, even the pale line of his hair. She longed to draw him like that, all long lean lines and the soft folds of his school clothes.

"Sick?" he asked.

"A bit," she answered. "Don't move, you've got lovely angles right now."

"Excuse me?" Lucius asked, but Narcissa had already twisted around in her chair, the green cloak falling off her shoulders to reveal her white shirt, rumpled as usual. She flipped over a page and was sketching long lines in charcoal, his skeleton frame. Her hair fell over the paper, obstructing her eyes.

"The last thing you need to draw is sit in here and draw anymore," Lucius said, beginning to get up, but a cry from Narcissa stopped him.

"Don't move! Just five more minutes!"

"Narcissa, you have been in here drawing for the past five hours," Lucius began.

"Really?" Said Narcissa, uncaring. "You know how I get when I'm in a project."

"You've nearly lost your voice," Lucius pointed out.

"No, I lost it yesterday," Narcissa said. "I'm doing much better today."

"Stop," said Lucius, standing up firmly. Narcissa looked up at him, abandoning her sketch.

"I could draw you like that too," she began, but he grabbed her hand.

"You can stare at me all day, Narcissa, and I know how amazing my body is without your adoring sketches, but you are sick. I can't have my own personal portraitist sick, after all."

"Where are we going?" Narcissa protested, clutching at her cloak and drawing pad as Lucius pulled her out of the Common room."Is portraitist even a word?"

"The kitchens," said Lucius, shortly. "And yes. You are going to eat soup and go to bed and get over this cold."

"All this magic and not even a cure for the common cold," Narcissa said, but Lucius was pulling on her hand, and she coughed as they walked quickly down the hallway. Lucius shook his head.

"You're killing yourself," he said, reprimanding, and Narcissa laughed weakly.

"It's just a cold, Lucius, you act like I'm going to die."

"Well, you aren't making it better," he said, stopping in front of the painting of the fruit bowl. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to stay out in the cold or you'll get sick? Obviously it didn't stick."

"I've been in the common room all week," she said, as Lucius tickled the pear. The painting swung open.

"That common room is a few degrees warmer than outside," he said. "Not many. Now, normally I'd agree that bracing cold is good training for later in life, and that all Slytherins who can't withstand a little cold don't deserve the House name, but your sickness is an exception. Besides, we're Seventh years now. We must set an example."

"Example?" Narcissa muttered, wiping her nose on her sleeve, but Lucius was already speaking to the House Elf.

"Soup," he ordered. "Something for a cold. Make it hot or I'll pour it on your head, you little rat," he added as it scurried off.

"So caring," mumbled Narcissa.

"Narcissa, you're the most important person I know and it's not even a person," Lucius said, pulling her in and putting his arm around her shoulder. "Sit down."

She sat at a small chair around a counter, and the House Elf brought her a big bowl of golden broth, while another poured her a glass of steaming something-or-the-other. she took a sip of the glass and coughed once, making a face. "Sugar," Lucius ordered, watching her attentively. "And another chair."

When the sugar and chair were brought he sat down across from her, stirring sugar into her glass while she sipped at broth from an overlarge spoon. She smiled at him over the soup, shaking her head.

"And you mock me?" Lucius asked, mock injured. "I put your health on priority and this is how I am repaid?"

"You're ridiculous," Narcissa said. "It's just a runny nose and sore throat." She wiped her nose on her sleeve and took another spoonful of soup. "It'll be better in a few days."

"Narcissa, it's unbecoming for someone of your stature to wipe your nose like that," he said, disapprovingly. "House Elf, bring her a handkerchief immediately."

When said handkerchief was produced he handed it to her. Very pointedly, she sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. "You're impossible," he said, reprimanding.

"I'll wipe my nose on whatever I want, thank you very much," Narcissa said, then sneezed into her broth. "Damn." She took another sip anyway, blowing on the spoon before slurping loudly.

"How common," said Lucius, amused.

"So's your mum," Narcissa retorted, but the common insult was without heart. She took a big spoonful again and sipped it this time, more ladylike. She took another sip then set her spoon down, staring into her bowl.

"I don't want anymore," she said, and her voice was tired and hoarse. She wiped her nose on the handkerchief this time, closing her eyes briefly. Lucius looked at her, then stood up.

"Come on," he said, offering one hand, and helped her up, taking her glass with the other. He tried a sip, but made a face. Lucius hated tea.

"We're going to take you back to the dorms and make you go to sleep," Lucius said, leading her out of the kitchens. "I'll climb up to your dorm myself, and chain you to the bed, if I have to."

"You can't," Narcissa said, being dragged behind him. She looked like a child, still clutching her sketchbook with one hand and the cloak with the other. "You can't come up in the girls' dorms."

"Then I'll make you sleep in my bed," Lucius said. "And stand guard outside the door so no one disturbs you, and to make sure you don't leave. You can't get better if you don't sleep. Don't think I don't see you, up all hours of the night drawing."

Narcissa smiled, then sneezed again. They were at the common room, and Lucius muttered the password--"Hierarchy"--before pulling her into the cold room.

"Come on," he said, pushing her into the boys' side of the dorms. Ignoring looks from the few Slytherins still in dorms at this hour, he pulled Narcissa into his dorm room. His four-poster bed was luscious with green silk and pillows, and he pulled Narcissa's cloak and sketchbook away, setting them on the trunk as she climbed into it, hardly protesting. ""Drink," he commanded, and she obiediently sipped the last of the tea. He smoothed the covers over her, up to her neck, and she lay back on the pillows, smiling. Her long hair hung like pale silk over the green cloth, seeming in the half-darkness to have a luster of its own. Her gray eyes, though red-rimmed, were smiling.

"Thank you, Lucius," she murmured, as he bent over to kiss her forehead in a rare gesture of affection.

"Sleep well," he commanded, shutting the door to the room. Scarcely was the door closed than Narcissa's eyes closed with it, secure in the comfort of someone else's bed. Before she slipped into the darkness of sleep, she could smell the sheets, the subtle scent of Lucius, and it felt like home.


End file.
